You're Going Places I Can't Follow
by VaultEscapeArtist
Summary: Nordic Dovahkiin Rakel wakes up not only with the worst hangover she's ever had, but also in the worst situation she could ever imagine; marriage. And if that wasn't bad enough, Rakel discovers who she's hitched to for life.
1. When The Morning Comes

**You're Going Places I Can't Follow**

**Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim**

**Female Dragonborn/Sanguine**

**A/N: **Decided to branch off from my usual Bioware driven fanfiction, and dabble into TES writing. And of _course_ I pick one of the strangest pairings. This follows the "A Night To Remember" questline in Skyrim.

* * *

_Mother of all hangovers..._

The Nordic woman squinted accusingly at the nearly blinding sun and cursed again. Unfortunately, a mother and her young child were still nearby while Rakel damned every god she could think of. Mother Dearest glared at her while her pride and joy started repeating Rakel's less than courteous word choices. Rakel snickered while the mother smacked her child and led them away, glaring behind her all the while. As if Rakel cared. She was the Dragonborn; her job was to slay dragons, not act as a damned example for the children to look up to. She had definitely proven that last night with Sam.

Sam. That _fucking_ arsehole. Thanks to his brilliant little drinking contest at the Bannered Mare she had been spending the majority of her day stealing goats back from giants and apologizing to priests for feeling up statues. And now she was heading back to Whiterun, her ass sore from riding her horse all damn day.

_This staff Sam promised me better be worth it._ Rakel had been retracing Sam and her own's steps from the previous night. From what she gathered the two of the them had had one hell of a night. And she was the only one paying the consequences.

Now she'd been led to Ysolda, the Divine must have known why because she certainly didn't. "Hope I didn't steal _your_ goat, too," Rakel muttered as she approached the Whiterun woman. She liked Ysolda, though they could hardly be any more different. Rakel, her face always painted for battle and the sides of her head shaved with the rest of her pale hair braided down her back, was a stark contrast with the proper, always polite Ysolda. Regardless, Rakel was not looking forward to finding out how she and Sam had fucked up Ysolda's night.

Relaxing and trying not to look neither guilty nor hungover as she spoke to the woman, Rakel addressed her, "Ysolda. Might I have a word?"

"Harbinger!" Ysolda dropped the basket she was carrying and threw her arms around the dragonborn's waist, the highest the much shorter woman could reach. "I'm so happy for you!"

It definitely wasn't the reaction Rakel had anticipated. "Thanks?" she finished uncertainly.

Ysolda pulled away, to Rakel's relief, and smiled up at her. "We didn't think it was ever going to happen, our Thane getting married! And imagine _me_ getting to be the one to supply the rings!"

"_Married_?" Rakel was terrified at how high pitched her voice had become. Then she looked down at her hand and saw the plain gold wedding band on her finger and became even more terrified; she _screamed_.

"My Thane?" Ysolda asked, taking a few cautionary steps back.

Rakel quickly calmed herself. "I am fine. I'm simply confused. Uh, I hate to ask this, but _who_ did I marry?" _Or was it whom_?

Ah. She knew that look. Ysolda was eying her incredulously. Rakel had received that look so many times before. _How could you forget where you hid those dragon bones? And how could you possibly forget where you threw your pants? And how in Oblivion did you forget who you married?_

Ysolda spoke again. "You never said their name, only that you met someone in some place called Misty Grove." Rakel had no idea where that was. "And you _were_ to be married in Morvunskar." Rakel still had no idea where any of these places were. "But the Companions are saying you and your spouse-to-be invited them to Riften to be married in the temple of Mara. From what I hear, the two of you had _quite_ the reception."

She had been hopeful when Ysolda had said she was to be married in a run down fort. It would have been easier that way to convince the temple of Mara to annul the whole damn marriage. But if the affair was done officially and under Mara's priest's direct supervision...she may be stuck being married to...whoever the hell she was married to.

Rakel thanked Ysolda for her time (and promised to pay her back from the rings at a later time—preferably after she beat the gold out of Sam) and headed for the stables outside Whiterun. She had considered walking to Jorrvaskr and just asking the Companions what had happened the previous night, but she couldn't stand the thought of Vilkas looking down on her or Farkas laughing his hairy ass off. What was Sam's angle here? Trashing a temple, selling a giant someone else's goat..._that_ was funny, but marrying her off when she vowed never to do so? That was less funny.

Not wanting to face her brothers and sisters in Jorrvaskr or the Mara priests, Rakel headed to Morvunskar, the only place she might get answers without embarrassing herself.

* * *

If this was the place she had first intended to be married at, she had certainly picked a shithole. A witch infested shithole. Rakel was less prejudice against magic users than her fellow Nord countrymen, but that didn't mean she appreciated being set on fire.

The inside of Morvunskar was as pleasant as the outside; it wasn't at all. _Why in the name of Talos would I want to be married here? _

_Better question. Why would I want to be married at all?_

Not certain what she had expected to find here, Rakel searched the inside thoroughly for any sign of Sam or her new husband or wife. She found nothing. Nothing until a dark blue and black portal opened in one corner of the ruin, waiting for her to walk through it.

Hesitating for a moment, Rakel approached the force carefully.

_Don't touch it,_ she thought.

She touched it.

* * *

Her vision was slightly obscured by a thin, moving mist. Rakel turned in circles, examining her surroundings. The only things she could see clearly were a few hanging lanterns and she tentatively walked towards those.

The lanterns led her to a small clearing. There was a table further in, filled with people drinking and talking, but the only person Rakel was paying attention to was the smug son of a bitch right in front of her.

"Guevenne! You're a drunken _bastard_!"

"And _you're_ not wrong," the man replied jovially. He hadn't changed since their first meeting; still wearing that stupid grin on his stupid Breton face.

Suddenly infuriated with him, Rakel stomped up to him and grabbed a fistful of his collar. "Dammit, man! About what happened last night...it's all fun and games until somebody gets married!" He was still smirking so Rakel pushed at his chest with on hand, while hanging onto him with the other. "Now, tell me. Who in Oblivion did I get hitched to?"

"Who in Oblivion, _indeed_."

Just as she was about to ask (demand) what _that_ had meant, there was a dark flash and standing in Sam Guevenne's place was a blighted dremora.

The first thing Rakel did was let go of what had previously been Sam. Next she attempted to apologize profusely. The dremora just laughed at her, his white teeth flashing in the moonlight. "You obviously don't remember much of anything if you're surprised to see me!"

Rakel stepped back. "Last night's festivities involved me hanging out with a dremora."

"To be _specific_, you hung out with," his voice dropped an octave, turning sinister, "_Sanguine, deadric prince of debauchery._" Sanguine's voice returned to it's usual, upbeat and slightly inebriated tone, "Also, I'm not sure if 'hung out with' is the correct term either."

Rakel stared at him. "We stole a _goat_ together, I don't think there _is_ a term for that."

"There is." Sanguine held up one of his hands, letting her see the shining gold band that fit over his gauntlet. "It's called marriage."


	2. Could Be Worse, Could Be Raining

**Chapter 2: **Could Be Worse, Could Be Raining

**A/N: **I hate what I titled this but I'm not good with titles so...

* * *

Rakel stared at the band of Mara on her finger and then stared at the one Sanguine was wearing. Then she started laughing. She was laughing so hard that Sanguine joined in until it started to sound more like she was crying. She wiped uselessly at her eyes and asked, "But, seriously, this is just a prank, right?"

"A prank on _Mara_," Sanguine clarified with a pride she was frightened to see. "Imagine, she _wed_ a Daedric Prince _and_ the Dragonborn! And her priests had absolutely _no_ idea!"

This couldn't be happening. How could the Divines ever allow this? Eventually Rakel found her voice and pointed out bluntly, "It's not much of a joke if no one else realized what was happening."

The Prince was undeterred. "Then it's more of an _inside_ joke, but it's still good, no?"

"You _married_ me for an inside joke?"

"Believe me, I have done much more for so much less."

Oh, She didn't doubt it. "So...we're _married_." The word stuck like stale bread to the roof of her mouth. The Companions were never going to let her live this down, her marrying what they foolishly assumed was a Breton mage. Rakel focused on that irritating thought until an even worse thought hit her. "Talos, we didn't..._consummate_ the marriage, did we?"

Sanguine's shit eating grin said it all. But he still felt the need to say it anyway. "Only a few times. No more than six, at the most."

Her complete lack of memory was suddenly a blessing. This was probably an unnecessary questions, but she was going to ask it anyway. "Did you, uh, look like you did when we met at the Bannered Mare or did you look like you do right now when we, ah, did the _consummating_?"

"Does it matter?"

_Yes. No. YES. _Unwanted images of a heavy breathing, charcoal limbed daedra hovering over her and, Talos forbid, _thrusting_ filled Rakel's mind and made her want to tear her eyes out. She startled when Sanguine laid a hand on her shoulder, leading her towards the table in the center of the grove. "Come _on_," he slurred. "Looks like you need a drink. I know I do."

Drinking was the last thing she needed to do, looking at where it got her the first time. Rakel ducked under his arm, shaking her head. "I think I'll sit this one out."

"Suit yourself," Sanguine shrugged, snatching a bottle of brandy from one of his servants.

Rakel watched him drink, waiting to be sent back to Nirn but eventually she realized Sanguine would drink himself unconscious if she didn't bring it up first. She recalled the whole reason she had agreed to that blasted drinking contest and growled, "Your dick better not have been the 'staff' you promised me."

Sanguine spat out his drink. He chuckled darkly and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "_There's_ the girl I married! Always too clever by half!" Rakel knew the Prince was supposedly complimenting her and she should act grateful and shit, but she really wasn't feeling it at the moment. "Anyway," Sanguine continued cheerfully as if she wasn't glaring up at him this whole time, "you won the contest fair and square. You earned this. _You_...you're going places." A short staff appeared in his hands and Sanguine handed it off to her. The first thing Rakel noticed about it was that it looked exactly like a rose. Had petals and thorns even, the whole shebang.

_If I show up to Jorrvaskr with this I'll be laughed out of Whiterun. _

Looking up to thank him, Rakel was shocked to find herself back in the Bannered Mare with the local bard staring at her and wondering where in Oblivion she had come from.

Had he asked, she actually could have answered that.

* * *

Ever the optimist, Rakel struggled to find a bright side to her new, hell-ish situation. Being wed to a deadric prince was, in a word, horrifying. But, it could have been much worse. Sanguine was probably one of the less _evil_ daedra, more like Sheogorath than Molag Bal. They were more to be _tolerated_, rather than _feared_.

And, Rakel doubted Sanguine would show up again in her lifetime. Their wedding had been, using his own words, a prank. Not to be taken seriously. It might even work out in her favor. She could easily make up some lie about her absent husband and now she wouldn't have to worry about any future marriage proposals coming her way or people asking her when she was going to finally settle down.

She had these thoughts in mind when she entered Jorrvaskr for the first time since '_it_' happened. Rakel had left the Sanguine Rose at Breezehome, hanging from a weapon rack. She didn't even know what the staff did yet and honestly she wasn't exactly dying to find out. She felt as though using it might remind Sanguine of her presence, as so far, for the past two weeks he had made no attempts to contact her.

_Good_.

"Look who's _finally_ back from their honeymoon," Farkas's voice boomed out over the sounds of weapons being cleaned and mead being poured. His twin brother's head rose slightly towards the door in interest, his eyes narrowing when he saw Rakel standing there. She didn't have time to take in Vilkas's hostile expression as she was being tackled by Aela and her probing, mostly inappropriate questions about her new husband.

"Aela, for the last time, I'm not going to discuss the size of my husband's genitals, thank you." Rakel was sitting at the Companions' dining table, forgoing her vow to never drink ever again and was now chugging ale faster than was healthy.

"Then how am I to know if he is worthy of you?" the Huntress asked before placing a strong hand on Rakel's stomach. "Or if he will be a worthy father to your children?"

Spitting out her ale and quickly removing Aela's hand from her abdomen, Rakel told her quietly, "There will be _no_ talk of _children_."

Sensing she had somehow gone too far, Aela struggled to change the subject. "Your little mage husband can certainly hold his liquor." She started picking out the bits of dried blood from underneath her nails. "He out drank _Farkas_."

"I'm not surprised." Rakel snorted, the tension in her eyes lessening.

"Well, the rest of us were."

"You don't know him like I do." _And I know him very little. I hope to _always_ know him so little._

Aela swiftly reached out and snatched Rakel's empty mug away. "Your marriage was very sudden, shield-sister. I had thought, if you were to choose anyone, it would have been Farkas."

Rakel muttered bitterly into her shoulder, "It would have been." Aela looked as though she wanted her to elaborate, but before Rakel could someone dropped into the seat next to her.

"Darling! Dearest!" Sanguine's voice echoed throughout the hall. Any other time Rakel might have been furious at the attention he was drawing to her, but honestly this time she was simply glad he had remembered to wear his Breton disguise. Having to deal with a drunken mage was much better than having to deal with a drunken deadra.

"How did you get in here?" Rakel hissed, not in the mood to play along with whatever this new game was.

"The. Door." He spoke in clipped, loud tones. His darling wife growled when he threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "You left a _very_ important staff at home all by it's lonesome."

"I _bet_ she did," Aela smirked mischievously. Sanguine grinned lopsidedly at her. Rakel just glared at her, unappreciative this one time of Aela's dirty mind.

"He _meant_ an actual mage's staff," Rakel corrected her, hoping the rest of the Companions were currently looking the other way. _The Sanquine Rose, not his dick! Now is not the time, Aela!_

"Oh, I know what he meant."

This was going nowhere. Rakel suddenly stood up from the table. "I'm going home," she announced through gritted teeth. Her hope that Sanguine would forget all about her was vanquished. She should have known he would drag out this damn prank much longer than necessary.

Of _course_ Sanguine followed her. "Good," he replied jovially, swaying on his feet as he trailed after her. "I made dinner."

* * *

He made dinner.

Rakel didn't need her wolfblood to tell her that his idea of dinner was much different from a human's idea of an acceptable meal. She held up the wineglass and swished the contents around. "This is blood, isn't it?"

"Yep."

She slowly moved to the table and stared down at the meat pie. "Should I even ask what sort of meat is in this?"

"Are you going to tell me humans _don't_ eat other humans?"

Thank Talos that Lydia wasn't there. She was off doing errands for the Jarl, something Rakel was grateful for. When she had accepted the title of 'thane' she hadn't anticipated it would come with a roommate.

Well, when she had accepted Sanguine's drinking challenge she hadn't thought that would have come with a husband, either.

Rakel turned on her heel, grabbed her ax, Wuuthrad, and headed briskly for the exit. "I'm going to go find a dragon," she informed him when he asked what she was doing, "and then I'm going to kill it."

"Have fun, dearest dragonborn," he teased. "Oh! And don't forget this! You might need it." Sanguine stepped in front of her and held out the Sanguine Rose, waggling his eyebrows and smirking until she snatched it from him.

_I am pawning this off the next chance I get. _"Thanks," she said in a monotone. Talos, she hoped he wouldn't be here when she got back.

* * *

Once the glow from the dragon's soul began to fade, Rakel climped atop the dragon's snow white skull and sat on its brow. She twirled the Sanguine Rose in her hands, glaring down at it as if this inanimate object was the source of all her troubles. But, as infuriated as she was by it, she might as well find out what it _did_.

Waving the staff halfheartedly, Rakel sat and waited and was unsurprised when a dremora appeared before her. The dremora's greatsword was drawn and ready and remained so until he saw that she was in no danger. The Kynreeve stalked over to her to demand why she had summoned him without reason. Rakel interrupted him first.

"_You're_ it?"

* * *

When Rakel returned to Breezehome Sanguine was there. In her bed. Naked. Waiting for her.

Rakel stared for a moment, stunned, and then went back downstairs and left.

It was a week before she felt it was safe to enter her own home again.

* * *

When she entered again he was still in the same place, only this time he had dropped his mortal disguise and was lounging around in his deadra form. Still fucking naked. Why he thought _that_ would help she didn't rightly know. This time she wasn't turning tail and running.

Rakel slammed her fist on the nightstand. "Get your bare ass _out_ of my bed!"

"I've been waiting for you," Sanguine grinned and motioned for her to lie down next to him.

"I can see that. Unfortunately I can see _everything_." Rakel grabbed one of her fur blankets off the ground and dropped in on top of him. "Why are you still here?"

"I've been back and forth." Sanguine sat up and stretched. "I know you finally tested out the staff. The Kynreeve said you're a bitch. Don't worry," he said, waving a hand, "I reprimanded him for it. No one talks about _my_ wife that way."

"How long are you going to keep this up?' she scowled quite impressively and wondered if she shouted at him what would happen.

"How long do mortals live again?"

Rakel snatched one of her pillows out from under him and, pressing it over her face, used it to muffle her screams. Sanguine reached over and tried to pat her arm. She shirked away. "Don't touch me."

He was perplexed by her statement. "Then how are we supposed to have sex?"


End file.
